The Lucky Ones
by izzylane
Summary: Chekov brings back a souvenir from shore leave that infects the entire ship, save for its illustrious captain. McCoy and Chapel must save the day. McCoy/Chapel pairing.


**The Lucky Ones (McCoy/Chapel)**

Written for the kink meme in which someone wanted McCoy and Chapel being all badass with their hyposprays.

* * *

"What you got there?" Scotty leaned over the table in the mess hall to peer into the glass container Pavel was hugging to his chest. There were many people crowded around the table also looking, wondering why the young ensign had brought home such a strange souvenir from his shore leave.

"They are a delicacy," Chekov said decidedly. "I was told they are very good."

"Um, son, I think you were ripped off if you paid anything," this came from an engineer; one Pavel had met working with Scotty on the engineering deck, but could not remember his name. "Those look like fleas."

Chekov beamed, proud of his acquisition. "They are. Melvaran Mud Fleas. When you put them in your mouth, they hop up and down until you crunch them…or so I have heard."

Scotty looked interested at the mention of food. "You have not tried them yet? Well what'r ya waiting for? Go ahead." A few of his cohorts echoed his urging.

Chekov, under the face of so much peer pressure, opened the container. The fleas did not end up in his mouth though, but escaped as soon as the lid came off. What resulted was an amusing sight, well amusing to those not involved, as fleas jumped into Chekov's and the surrounding people's hair and uniforms and started wreaking havoc involving itching and scratching. The shriek erupting from one of the female engineers as she practically pulled her hair out in terror did not help the overall mood of the room. She fainted, hitting her head on the side of the table, causing first blood in the flea attack.

The problem seemed solved after they patched her up with a handy med kit located in the mess ("no need to get the doctor involved, right?" Chekov asked nervously). The others in the room did not feel the effects of the mud fleas bite until a few hours later when they were covered in rashes and vomiting. By then it was too late and the sickness had spread from the five engineers and one navigator to the entire _Enterprise_. Well the entire ship, minus one lucky captain who had been administered the vaccine for the virus six months earlier before heading on a mission involving a swamp, a scantily clad princess, and a large black dog .

"Lucky bastard," McCoy muttered as he turned away from his captain's smirk in the hallway outside one of the many sickbays being utilized in the mud flea pandemic.

"Oh c'mon, Bones! You have to admit this is funny. I never thought I would see the day that you have to give hyposprays to everyone _but _me." He'd followed the doctor into the room that seemed to be having its own version of World War III. Anyone of any medical expertise (and some who were just wearing blue tunics) was being handed hyposprays full of the vaccine to inject in people and send them on their way. Those waiting for the drug were sitting or standing on any available surface trying to control their vomiting and need to itch the nasty rashes covering their arms and legs. It smelled horrific and really looked like some of the worse-off crewmembers were going to stage a mutiny and start their own war against the medical staff if they weren't cured soon.

Jim looked lost in the face of this type of chaos, not that Bones cared. Grabbing the patient closest to him, he administered the dose, talking loudly over the din of the sickbay. "Really, Jim? That's all you are thinking about? Why don't you, instead of gloating so much, go find the source, which happens to be your teenage navigator, and give him a stern talking to for bringing a _goddamn virus onto my ship!_" The last was shouted loudly enough that a cease fire was declared in the sickbay war zone and all eyes turned to Bones as if he was their savior. He swore and grabbed another hypospray and used it on the closest person, who happened to be the captain. He smirked at the resulting yelp and the wounded glare.

"Dammit, Bones! What was that for?"

"Just wanted to make sure you were safe." His smile was innocent. "Now stop annoying me or I will do it again!"

"But I am allergic." He looked at his hands and put them on his face, feeling for any abnormalities.

"You aren't allergic to that one. That was the quarterly immunity booster that you just so conveniently forgot to come in for. Good thing I caught you. Now go do something productive." It was probably against regulation to throw the captain out of the room, but damn did it feel good.

His smile turned back to his trademark scowl when he saw the line of people waiting to be vaccinated. At least they weren't yelling anymore, though they were still vomiting. He pointed to a non-puking patient and crooked his finger, "your turn. Everyone who is done, please leave! And take a shower for God's sake. You all stink!" He received multiple glares for his comment, but was rewarded with sickbay emptying by a few people, enough that he had a clear line of vision to Nurse Chapel ordering her patients to sit down in a no-nonsense voice. She was covered in grime and vomit and her usual bright hair was darkened and sticking to her forehead, but he loved the look of determination set on her fine features as she too vaccinated crewmembers quickly and sent them on their way.

He continued working, wielding his hypospray like a sword against the fucking mud fleas that had dared to enter his clean ship. Each spray made him feel a little better. He absolutely hated, _hated_ outbreaks, especially when they were brought on unknowingly by intelligent officers who knew better. He was going to give a nice long speech to the ensign once this was over. The thought of making the teenager cry in shame over his unwitting mistake made the process of cleaning up the mess he caused a little better. The line of people kept growing smaller and the room became quieter, thank God. He had not had to yell since Jim left, well fled would be a better word choice.

Four hours later, after a few emergency runs to the supply closet to restock, the room was empty, save for the medical staff sitting or lying down on any and all available surfaces. One nurse was passed out on a biobed, snoring softly. McCoy was sprawled on one of the few clean patches of floor next to Chapel where they had slumped after the last patient left. His shoulder hurt from where a muscular science officer had fallen into him before puking on the floor, narrowing missing his shoes. His fingers hurt from administering hyposprays in an unnatural number of doses per minute. He felt pain in places he would rather not discuss in mixed company and felt he could stand in his shower for hours and not feel clean.

Christine Chapel looked about how he felt, though her features were less strained in her relaxed state. She'd fallen asleep on his shoulder after they finally had a chance to rest from the rush of rash-covered patients. She had to be exhausted, having pulled a double shift; she had been off duty for a paltry twenty minutes before the outbreak had warranted her presence once more. He shifted his shoulder slightly to get comfortable and she murmured in her sleep and held on tighter to his arm. Damn, she was pretty and she trusted him almost implicitly, even though she had no qualms about standing up to him when she thought he was in the wrong. This is what attracted him in the first place; the first time she had yelled back he had wanted to kiss those lips and breathe in that fire.

The door slid open and the last person McCoy wanted to see at that moment walked in with five engineers, all looking very sheepish. They had cleaned up since their viral attack and this made McCoy glare even harder because they were clean and he wasn't. At his angry look, they all shifted uncomfortably and looked at Chekov. He seemed to be their spokesperson.

"You! What do you want?"

Chekov cleared his throat nervously. "The captain sent us to help you clean up." He grimaced, looking around the battlefield that was main sickbay. There was a lonely boot in the middle of the floor. Who had lost a boot? "He said it was punishment for causing this and to tell you that I am very sorry." The speech had to have been rehearsed as he said it very quickly with his pleading eyes boring into the doctor and then looked down at his clean shoes.

McCoy waited a while before answering. He had wanted tears before, but now he just wanted more of the shame Chekov was projecting in full force. "Fine, you and your buddies can start cleaning up. My staff is going to shower and relax for a long while before returning. You can start by mopping up all the vomit." He smiled for the first time since hell broke loose and gently extricated himself from Chapel's grasp. He stood and pulled her up alongside him, smiling gently at her confusion. "Come on sweetheart, let's get you cleaned up."

* * *

He always treated her like something fragile when he thought she needed it. More often than not this was when she was ill and actually needed assistance or when she was faking it to get those gentle hands focused on her and only her. Christine really was tired from the last twenty-four hours and could hardly stand up to walk with Leonard back to his room, but she managed. She always did, though it made her heart pound a little faster to link her arm through his and pretend to need his help. She did not like to do this regularly because she looked down upon clingy simpering types, but it was nice to have the option of leaning on someone else for once, even when both of you smell rancid from the sick you had been treating all day.

"Stupid fucking mud fleas." McCoy was still muttering as they walked through the corridor. He would never admit it, but he lived for this type of day, the ones that tire you out until you are dead on your feet, but are filled with the satisfaction of accomplishing something big.

She propped herself against the wall outside his room as he keyed in the code. She felt almost drunk in her exhaustion and the elation of eradicating the virus. McCoy had been so angry in his justified furor, throwing hyposprays right and left, yelling at the staff, pushing the captain out of the way and yelling at him as well. Now that had been a funny sight. She grinned, eyes closed, still leaning against the wall. Opening her eyes, she saw him looking at her in bemusement.

"Are you going to come in, or just stand there grinning?" His eyebrows rose and she was reminded of how he loved to ask this kind of question when they were on the job and he was teaching some sort of new procedure. "Are you sure you want to use that or should you try something less idiotic?" It was amazing that she had seen through his bluster to the heart of gold he liked to keep hidden. She was never piqued by his raised voice, but rather laughed in his face when he tried to use his angry fuck-the-world tone on her.

"Don't tell me you don't still feel some of the adrenaline from today, Len? It was our first outbreak on the _Enterprise_ and we got rid of it in less than six hours!" She beamed at him, absurdly happy and forgetting the tiredness of her muscles, though she did not think she could move them willingly at the moment. Apparently she did not have to because he pulled her inside, her body feeling weightless until it crashed into his chest. He locked the door and pushed her against the first available wall.

"Do I feel adrenaline?" He mouthed her neck, scratching his two-day-old beard against her cheek. "Fuck yes I do." His knee went between her legs and her muscles easily melted under this onslaught. "I have been hard since you started cuddling up next to me on the floor. Wanted to take you right there, in front of the entire medical staff, even the snoring nurse." He kissed her then, deeply while pushing his leg higher between her legs until she was riding it. She keened softly when he hit just the right spot and then did it again, biting her lip when she squirmed. He put his head to her forehead, breathing roughly, but dropped his knee. She saw his nose wrinkle in the dim light of the room.

"Do I smell that bad?" She inquired teasingly.

"We both do," he replied, but made no move to break from the embrace. He sighed deeply and leaned his weight on the arms he had placed on either side of her head. She took advantage of his relaxed state and nipped him on the chin before ducking out from under his arms and into the bathroom.

"I get first shower," she said smugly as she keyed the door shut in his face.

He gave her a full five minutes in the shower to wash off the grime before she heard the door swish open and cool hands on her hips. Her hair was wet and soaped for the second time, so she rinsed and then gave him dibs on the shower head, washing his back in smooth strokes as he washed his hair. When he was done, he turned around and wrapped his arms around her and she put her head on his chest, listening to his heart beat.

"No death today, Leonard," she said quietly. "Everyone survived." His arms tightened around her and she burrowed further into his chest, smelling the scent of the pine soap he so loved. The water beat down on her and her body rejoiced in the pressure. Every part of her relaxed into the embrace, not wanting to leave this small cocoon they had made themselves. Because even though it had been their first outbreak, it had by no means been their first crop of disease. This time they had been lucky, but they both remembered the times and the faces of those who had not been so lucky.

They stepped out of the shower together and dried each other off, lingering on the patches of skin that caused the other to gasp. She nibbled at his hardened nipples and smiled when he shuddered, knowing that they were especially sensitive from the heat of the shower. He teased her right back, making her skin erupt in goosebumps.

By the time they made it to the bed and McCoy finally stroked into her, the low edge of arousal from before had grown into a stifling need that overtook any need for talking. He thrust silently into her, not rough like before, no joking about adrenaline rushes. The link of their joined fingers above her head was her anchor, as well as the mouth that he brushed along any skin that he could reach. He had not bothered to shave, so the touch of his cheeks burned, but made her feel all the more alive at the same time. He kissed her when she came, stifling her sounds with his mouth. Her helpless contractions milked him until he came too, gripping her hands tightly, but not breaking the silence.

He fell asleep, but she did not right away. Instead she stroked a hand down his face and marveled at how smooth it was without the scowl. Then she remembered that scowl being directed towards a not-so-lucky ensign and his punishment for the night and grinned.


End file.
